Obsessions
by Carina16
Summary: This is what happens when obsessions run too deep. Oneshot.


Disclaimer: Not mine. Duh.

Author's Note: This is a oneshot that I wrote a while back, before The Forgotten Child actually. Ran across it while trying to get rid of writer's block and decided to post it. The identity's ar up to you.

Looking back on it now, I honestly thought I could change him. I foolishly thought I could make him love me. If I only did as he asked, did what he wanted then it would prove my love for him and eventually he would, in turn, fall in love with me. He was everything that I thought I wanted. Fresh out of Beaubatons, I wanted someone older, someone with experience with the world. He was the perfect on for the job in my mind. He was rich, powerful, good looking and most important of all, he took an interest in me. When he and I first got together, everything was wonderful. He was married, but not happy. I was young, cute and loved the knowledge of being the other woman. He wasn't in love with his wife, nor was he in love with me. The one woman in the world that he loved had already had her heart claimed by another. It never mattered to me, though, because as I said, I was foolish.

When he and his wife finally parted ways, I was beyond happy at finally becoming the only woman in his life at the time. And stupidity for the win. Within a week, he had moved out of the house he shared with his wife and had moved into his cottage that he had allowed me to live in. As I have said, I was young, and while I had had my share of boyfriends growing up, I lacked the knowledge of everything that could be done in a sexual relationship. It had started out a simple game. I would take a polyjuice potion to become someone else, and for a while at first, he would do the same for me. The one thing I couldn't help but to notice was that while I asked for a new person every time, he always wanted the same woman. That should have been my first warning that something wasn't quite right.

One night while we were getting ready to make love, he asked me to take the potion. And for the first time since he and I had lived together, I refused. For once in this relationship, I wanted him to make love to me, not to the woman he could never really have but to ME. That was when his darker side began to show through. When I refuse, he slapped me. I was told that I was in his house, and subject to his rules. I would do as I told and keep my mouth shut about it. I should have left then, but that little voice in the back of my head kept telling me that he didn't really mean it and how would I feel if I had fallen in love with someone I could never be with. So I stayed.

As time went on, I spent less and less time as myself, and more as the "other woman". Every so often, if his wife had been there that day to pick the child they shared up for her visitation, I would spent a night or so as her, but most the time, it was her. The other woman. She, of course, carries no blame in any of this. She never had a clue what was going on. During the time that I was slowly becoming the other woman more and more, the depth of his obsession began to show more and more. What also began to show, was the depth of his anger at not having what he truly wanted. At night, in bed, it was obvious that he no longer remembered that it was me under the guise of a potion. I think he honestly started to think that he was truly in bed with his love.

He would start out as loving and as sweet as a person could possibly be, it was everything a girl dreamed of, but by the end, it was always more of a nightmare that I wondered if I would ever awaken from. By the time we reached the end of our love making, the anger would start. And the hitting. While I don't remember all of what went on, I remember enough. The hitting, steel fists full of rage raining down on me, the screaming questions. Why couldn't I just love him? Love him as he loved me? Why after so many years of knowing how he felt, could I still choose someone else over him? No matter how I answered, no matter how many times I tried to tell him that there was no one else I loved, it never made things better, only worse. A month ago, things reached it's peak.

Things went as they always did, and as I, once again, tried to tell him there was no one else I could love more than him, he took me by the throat and held me there. I was called a liar, he said that I was a liar and I would always choose "that red headed bastard" over him. I can still hear his cold voice whispering in my ear as he told me that I would learn what happened to people that lied to him. That's when I saw the knife. I tried to run, to break free of the confines of his grip, but it was no use. By the time he was done with me, I wasn't able to fight back anymore. Fact of the matter was, I was barely able to awake. For what happened next, I wish with everything I have, that I had allowed the inky blackness that threatened to swallow me up that night to do so. Knowing that I couldn't fight him any longer, he flipped me over in the bed and proceeded to carve "my" name into my back. He left after that and did not return for the rest of the night. As I laid in the bed, I wondered how things had gone so wrong. My father was so much like my lover. I had fought so hard to survive that, and had lived through seventeen years of waiting to be away from people like that. How could I have fallen back into the same situation? After a few hours, I was able to crawl to the bathroom and clean myself and then the bedroom up.

He stayed away from me for a few days after that, though, if it was out of disgust or guilt, I'll never know. The morning he returned to me, there had been a party planned for that night. The other woman and her husband would be there, just as he and I would be. I had always found the red head attractive and my lover used that to his advantage. He had a plan, as the party wore on, we would both take a polyjuice potion to appear as the other couple. When they would drift apart from each other, we would make our move. He would have her, and I would have my chance with her husband. We followed the plan perfectly, but when I arrived home from the party with the man I had wanted, I couldn't go through with it. It was him and his family that convinced me to leave my lover.

That was three days ago. This evening, the facts of everything that occurred during my time with him, came into the light. I was forced to allow the removal of the concealing charms that covered the scars and bruises. I will admit that I was scared to do this, scared that when they saw how I truly looked now because of him, I would be asked to leave. I was convinced that no one would want me anymore. So here I am, taking refuge in the home of the woman I was forced to live as for so long. She and her husband has not placed any of the fault on me, and have been kind enough to take me into their home. When I first arrived, I was convinced that I was destined to be alone. Destinies cannot be changed and I had accepted that fact. I felt this way, even more so, tonight after the removal of the charms that hide the real me from the world.

But once again, I find I have been wrong in my thinking. There is one here, that can see past the mask that I show to the world, see past the scars that mar my face. A face that was once so beautiful, he has seen beauty there again. He makes me feel as though it is safe to be me again. He is the son of the other woman, the one who has encouraged us to be together. She thinks that it will do him some good to date me. She thinks that I can help lead him onto his path to adulthood. I believe otherwise. I think it will do me good to date him, for I believe he can save me from the darkness that has so many times before, threatened to swallow me whole. Perhaps, just perhaps, destinies can be changed after all.


End file.
